


The Right Pressure

by anzukhan



Series: Angst [1]
Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anzukhan/pseuds/anzukhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former lovers' lives take drastically different turns- until an unexpected force sends them on a collision course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Story begins following Paul's rescue from Yo Ling and then goes completely off the track from what aired after and what is currently airing on DAYS. My first attempt at a fan fic, so let me warn you, I have no idea how it will play out in the end.

Victor closed the folder as the young man entered the room.

“We’ve covered the grounds twice, Sir, and reviewed all surveillance tapes. There are no signs of Deimos Kiriakis on the grounds this evening.”

Victor mentally reviewed the names of his guards as the young man shifted from left to right foot. He was clean-shaven with a football-build, dark hair and eyes, and a Kiriakis Security uniform of black pants, shirt, and leather jacket.

Victor let him squirm as he reached for his Rolodex. Only when he finished flipping through did Victor turn his attention to the young man again.

His free hand pulled open the drawer beside him, reaching in until his fingers touched cold steel. “What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

“Your name.”

“Aaron, Sir. Aaron Rose.”

Victor prided himself in how quietly he closed the desk drawer and pointed the gun squarely at the young man’s chest.

“Who the hell hired you?”

Aaron blanched completely, but was wise enough, Victor noted, to not make any sudden movements.

“Mr. Kiri- Mr. Justin Kiriakis, Sir!”

Victor waved his gun hand and Aaron flinched before clamping his lips together.

Satisfied, Victor pressed the intercom button over his desk. “Justin?”

Justin answered after a brief pause.

“Yes, Victor?”

“The next time you hire a new guard on my grounds without warning, you’ll hear from me.”

“You mean Aaron?”

“Aaron, Sal, Harry—I don’t care. I almost shot the young man.” Victor harrumphed as Aaron almost lost his footing. “You run these things by me first, especially now. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, Victor.”

“Good. Come to my office when you’re finished. We need to talk.”

“Soon as I’m done here.”

“Excellent.”

Victor disconnected. “You’re free to go with your life, Rose. This time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do another round of the grounds before lockdown.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Victor looked at the young man pointedly until he took the hint and scurried out. He stood with a sigh, pouring himself a drink as he awaited Justin.

 

 

*

 

 

Deimos let the hotel door slam behind him.

He hummed as he peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. He sat at the hotel desk, his cell phone in one hand, a recorder in the other. He dialed, let the phone ring twice, then hung up.

He answered the returned call on the first ring.

“I was told Victor would be out this evening.”

Deimos tapped the recorder in a rhythmic pattern on the desk, listening.

“Yes, well I improvised,” Deimos replied.

_Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap. Tap._

“Mistakes can be costly. For me… and for you. Keep that in mind.”

Click.

Deimos tossed the phone and recorder to the side. He shrugged off his jacket, flipped the “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door, and headed towards the shower.

A knock sounded.

“Son of a—” Deimos snatched the door open. “The sign says…”

Kate stood at the door, head cocked to the side. “I thought I was the exception.”

Deimos smirked, making a grand gesture with his arm before stepping to the side.

“Exceptional in every way.”

Kate set her briefcase on the desk before accepting Deimos’ kiss.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he reminded her.

“Yes, well, one of our models _completely_ blew the shoot, so we have to reschedule and move everything around. This is what I get, working with amateurs.”

Deimos helped her out of her jacket before moving to the bar and pouring two drinks.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Deimos chided, handing Kate her drink. “You see, as a man, I’ve learned to expect women to be late. Couldn’t you have used another girl? I’m sure there are thousands vying to be Mad World’s ‘Flavor of the month.’”

Kate ran a finger around the rim of her glass before taking a sip.

“The “girl” is a _man_ , actually. It wouldn’t have made much sense to use anyone else for the cologne shoot when it’s named after him.”

“Ah, the Paul Narita campaign. Very nice job signing the man with the million-dollar arm.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “That “million-dollar arm” is worth a big fat $0 now.”

“I take it you aren’t all that impressed with him.”

“Impressed… no that isn’t the word I would use. Infuriated, definitely.”

“I see. Well, it was still a very nice campaign to pull off.”

Kate waved a hand in protest. “Yes, well, as much as I would love to take credit for signing my… my flake of a cologne ambassador, I had no desire to sign Paul, nor did I have a choice.”

Deimos lifted a brow. “Victor suggested it?”

“Actually…Justin did. ”

 

 

*

 

 

Paul would be on the floor if John and Steve hadn’t carried him off the elevator.

Instead, he was supported between them, each holding an arm as they led him to the waiting room, Marlena carrying the rear.

Kayla dropped her files at the front desk when she spotted them. “Oh god, Steve, John…what happened?”

Maxine arrived with a wheelchair, which John and Steve barely managed to settle an unconscious Paul into.

Steve nodded toward Paul. “Yo Ling happened.”

Maxine looked up.

“Yo Ling?”

John sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “My father.”

Kayla turned to him. “Your father—”

John held up a hand.

“It’s a very long story, Kayla, and the only thing that matters right now is my son. I need to know he’s okay.”

Kayla nodded. “Maxine, we have a room available in the west wing, get Paul to it, check all of his vital signs, take some blood—”

“Got it,” Maxine prepared to wheel Paul away.

“John, I need to know if anything was given to him, how long he’s been unconscious, what—”

Marlena stepped up as John moved to follow Maxine and Paul. “Kayla, I can answer all your questions.”

“You’re the best, Doc,” John called over his shoulder, trailing Maxine.

“And don’t you forget it!”

 

 

*

 

 

“Good help is hard to find,” Victor muttered, tossing a folder to the side.

“I hope you aren’t talking about me, Victor.”

Victor turned to find Justin making himself comfortable on the armchair across from him.

“I called you in here forty minutes ago!”

“And I was on my way. Until I ran—literally—into Adrienne.”

“And that took forty minutes?”

“Well, no. The running into took a few seconds. Prying words out of her took five minutes. The last 35 minutes we spent arguing after I found out she was on her way to see Lucas.”

Victor waved a hand. “Deal with it later. We need to talk. That new hire of yours…Rose? He ran like a scared rabbit with a gun pointed at him.”

“He probably wasn’t expecting his employer to take him out. His references are excellent.”

“My guards need to be built of stronger stuff than that. This is our family’s safety we’re talking about here. Deimos is playing by his own rules.”

Justin lifted a brow. “I thought I’d heard that Deimos was not on the grounds tonight.”

“You heard that there was no _sign_ of him on the grounds. I know he was here. I know he tampered with Maggie’s medicine. I don’t know why he did it, but I know he did.”

“To hurt Maggie, I imagine, which would hurt you.”

“Then why not kill her?”

“Maybe he didn’t have enough time?”

“Obviously,” Victor scoffed. “He didn’t have enough time to kill her…but he should have. Otherwise, we would have found him here, tampering with the bottle. We didn’t catch him trying to kill her because he _chose_ not to. And I want to know why.”

“Does it matter why? We know what Deimos did and he will pay for it. What really matters is if Maggie will make a full recovery. How is she feeling?”

“Better, now that she has her correct medication.”

Justin sighed. “That’s very good to hear.”

“Yes, but it is not what I called you in here to talk to you about.” Victor tossed the folder to Justin. “Read it.”

Justin skimmed the pages quickly before handing them back to Victor with a smile. “Sonny is doing very well at Titan Paris.”

“It’s good to know I have someone I can trust running things.”

“Have you talked to Sonny about Deimos?”

“Of course not. He’s got enough to worry about.”

“Yes, well, at least he answers your calls.”

“Doesn’t have much choice when I cut his check,” Victor reminded, his tone softer. “He hasn’t reached out to his mother recently?”

“One call the night he arrived to Paris. Another, two months after that. Ever since, it’s been voicemails and text messages. Last one was two weeks ago.”

Justin ticked off each point of contact on his right hand.

“Adrienne almost took the jet over there herself, but she has no idea where Sonny is staying.”

“True,” Victor agreed.

“But you do.”

“True.”

“And yet you refuse to share that information.”

“Sonny asked me not to and I won’t,” Victor reminded.

“Even if it means keeping me from my son?”

“We’ve done this song and dance, Justin.”

Justin stood, visibly angry. “And we’ll keep doing it, until—“

Victor lifted a hand. “I’m thinking of bringing Sonny home to run Titan.”

“With Deimos on the loose?”

“That’s just it, Deimos is on the loose and he is unstable. He has no qualms about going after the innocent. Look what he did to my Maggie!”

“Yes, what he did to Maggie _on_ Kiriakis grounds! Sonny is safe in France—”

“I can’t watch Sonny in France. I can’t guarantee his safety.”

The vein between Justin’s brows still throbbed. “If Deimos lays a hand on my son, I’ll—”

“You will let me handle it.”

“How do you even know Sonny will come home? He won’t even _call_ home. You’ll have to tell him about Deimos.”

“Not until he is safe here. Sonny’s smart, but he’s stubborn. He’ll convince himself he can take care of himself, start sneaking away from his security, and put himself right in Deimos’ crosshairs—and I won’t have it. Sonny’s too special to me. To this family.”

“Deimos won’t stop until he destroys every one of us.”

“He won’t have a choice. He will not come near Maggie again—”

“And he’s not laying a finger on my son—”

“Then we’re in agreement.”

Victor stood, closing the folder and slipping it in the drawer of his desk. He poured himself another drink and one for Justin too, handing it to him with a hand on his shoulder.

“When I speak with him, I’ll tell him to give you a ring. Even if Deimos wasn’t… Sonny needs to be home with the people who love him.”

Justin squeezed Victor’s hand on his shoulder before accepting the drink.

 

 

*

 

 

Every shift of Paul’s body in the hospital bed sent John to his side.

Sometimes, he would hold his hand tightly until the wrinkles between his brows smoothed. Sometimes, he would shift the pillows, pull the covers up, press a cool compress to his forehead—anything to make Paul more comfortable.

And sometimes he would open his eyes to find Marlena already at Paul’s side, blotting the sweat away from his brow and whispering soothingly. When she finished, when Paul settled again, she would curl up beside John in her own hard-backed chair, interlocking their fingers and resting her head on his shoulder as they kept watch on Paul.

Those were the moments that made him want to cry.

He wouldn’t though, not when Paul was being so strong after his ordeal at the hands of Yo Ling. Not when it was John who’d put him at Yo Ling’s mercy in the first place.

The unexpected opening of the door made both Marlena and John jump and, before he realized it, John was standing at Paul’s bedside, blocking the view of him from the door, fists raised.

“John,” Marlena stood, wrapping her fingers around his fists and pushing downward until he was forced to lower them. “It’s only Kayla.”

Kayla and Marlena exchanged a look John couldn’t read before Marlena shook her head.

Kayla nodded in return before turning her attention to John. “How has he been?”

“Restless. He’s been moving around a lot. He grimaces like he’s in pain and his skin is on fire, Kayla. Are you sure—”

“We were able to flush the drugs out of Paul’s system, John.”

“Why hasn’t he woken up?”

“The tox screen was clear. The CT scan didn’t reveal any abnormalities, but he’ll have quite a lump on his head for a while. What Paul needs most right now is rest. And so do both of you.”

John was already shaking his head. “Kayla, I’m staying right by my son’s bedside until he wakes up—and that’s a fact.”

“John, you running yourself ragged isn't going to help Paul—”

“Kayla, I know if it was Joey lying in this hospital bed, you wouldn’t leave his side.”

Kayla exchanged another look with Marlena before sighing again.

“Just make sure you don’t disturb him. He may wake up soon on his own but I meant what I said—what Paul needs most right now is rest.”

John enveloped Kayla in a tight hug. “Thank you, Kayla. We’ll make sure he gets it.”

Kayla nodded before approaching Paul’s bed. She observed him, made some notations in his chart, and turned to John.

“Everything looks normal so far. I am glad both you and Paul are okay. He’s a really great guy.”

John smiled proudly, reaching for and squeezing Paul’s hand again.

“One of the best.”

 

 

*

 

 

“I still think—and Ari agrees—that you would have a ton of fun if you came with us,” Lucas whispered conspiratorially over the TBD bar.

Adrienne shook her head with a laugh, cleaning the bar with one hand and tweaking Ari’s nose with the other.

“As much as I would love to go see the Boo Blahs live for a _fourth_ time—James fell sick, so I’ve got closing duties.”

Ari reached out for Adrienne then babbled in “Ariannish” as Adrienne caught her and bounced her on her hip.

Lucas grinned. “You know, you’re doing an amazing job with TBD.”

Adrienne smiled back. “I do know a thing or two about running a bar, you know.”

“No, I know, I just mean… Sonny would—Sonny will be really happy to see how well you’ve taken care of this place when he comes home.”

Adrienne’s smile faltered as she handed Ari back to Lucas.

“Right.”

Adrienne started stacking glasses.

Lucas watched her in silence while Ari cooed to no one in particular.

Feeling his eyes on her, Adrienne turned. “What?”

Lucas’s brow furrowed. “He really will be, you know. I bet when he comes home—”

“Lucas, I really don’t want to talk about Sonny right now.”

“I just mean…I know he’s probably told you—”

“Lucas, please!” Adrienne interrupted, startling both Lucas and Ari, who fell silent.

“I’m sorry.”

Adrienne shook her head, coming toward Lucas and Ari from behind the bar. “No, Lucas, _I’m_ sorry. I just… I have a lot on my mind and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or this precious little girl.”

  
A wary Ari let herself be folded into Adrienne’s outstretched arms again.

Lucas smoothed Ari’s curls away from her face. “When’s the last time you—”

“A few weeks ago,” Adrienne shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “He sent me an email.”

“What did he say? I mean… how is he doing?”

Adrienne shrugged again.

“He said he was doing fine, said Victor was keeping him very busy, and wished everyone well.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “Has he reached out to Justin at least?”

“Justin called him a few weeks ago. He said Sonny called him back, left him a voicemail. Didn’t say anything more than he said in the email he sent me. It was so nice to hear his voice, though.”

“And Victor?”

Adrienne’s eyes flashed, nostrils flaring. “Oh, _Victor_ speaks to Sonny every two weeks. _Victor_ knows exactly where Sonny is staying in Paris. _Victor_ won’t tell—”

“Hey, hey, hey…it’s okay,” Lucas whispered, pulling Adrienne into a hug.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucas pulled back. “Don’t be. It’s my fault. You said you didn’t want to talk about Sonny, but I kept pushing and—”

Adrienne hugged Lucas this time, a protesting Ari fussing between them.

“No, no, no. I’m okay. Really, I am.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. And you two are going to be late.”

Ari nodded, as if to remind Lucas of the importance of the Boo Blahs.

“You know, if you need us to stick around, Ari’s seen them three times already. I’m sure she’d rather spend time—”

As if on cue, Ari started babbling in “Ariannish” again, making Adrienne and Lucas laugh.

“I think Ari disagrees. It’s okay, I won’t take it personally.”

“Then come with us? We can stick around a little bit later while you lock up.”

“I’m okay, Lucas. Really.” She kissed Ari’s forehead and Lucas’s cheek. “I’ll join you for the next one. Fifth time’s the charm, right?”

Lucas’ resulting groan drew a laugh from Adrienne and a frown from Ari.

“Come on, I’ll let you two out.”

 

 

*

 

 

It was 3AM before Sonny closed the last file on his desk.

He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, stifling a yawn as he used his free hand to stack files. The latest Titan Paris distribution hiccup had taken him two nights to rectify, but he had and it was done and he could try to get some sleep finally. In his exhaustion, he swung his hand too wide while arranging piles, knocking his bag, a picture frame, and a pill bottle to the floor.

He picked up the picture frame first, relieved that the glass protecting Ari’s smiling face was still intact. He traced her features with his fingers, outlining her blue eyes, brushing over her blonde hair as if he could really feel the soft strands.

She looked _so_ much like him.

Too much like him.

Sonny returned the picture to its spot on his desk, the only picture he could keep there without giving into the urge to sweep everything off the desk to stop the memories.

The memories had occupied his every thought and moment those first months in Paris. The memories he struggled to keep at bay, the ones he had to numb with sleeping pills then paperwork when the pills stopped working. He became an insomniac then, holding meetings all-day and working well into the night, afraid to sleep, afraid to dream, afraid _he_ would invade his nightmares again.

He missed Will.

Despite the lies and the betrayals and the non-stop arguing, despite finally accepting months later that, even if the choice hadn’t been brutally snatched away from him, he hadn’t been sure he and Will would make it as he’d made plans to return home—Sonny missed him every moment of every day.

Will was _always_ there. Always reminding him of what could have been but would never be.

Except in the moments that belonged to Paul.

Sonny hadn’t heard from Paul, technically. He deleted Paul’s texts before reading them and Paul never called. They hadn’t spoken since the last words they’d shared at Will’s gravesite. He hadn’t reached out to Paul in the months since he’d been in Paris and was careful to avoid Salem news for fear of catching a glimpse of him. Except for the article on Theresa’s big show.

After months of avoiding mention of Salem, of a place that invoked an aching for things that would never be again, he flipped open a newspaper, shocked to find Paul’s face smiling back at him. He had one arm around Gabi, another around Theresa. The article was short, gushing about the success of Theresa’s Basic Black debut and Paul’s decision to donate his modeling proceeds to charity, but the brief glance of Paul’s face was enough to ease some of the aching in his chest.

After which he promptly shut the newspaper and shoved it in the back of his desk drawer.

In that moment, Sonny was forced to accept that part of that deep aching he felt for Salem, for Ari, for his family, and his dead husband—part of that aching was for Paul too.

And for Sonny, that realization awakened worse demons to hold at bay.

So he disconnected from Salem, maintaining the bare minimum of contact with Uncle Vic necessary to do his job and the occasional Skype call and visits from Ari. He was always careful to keep her in high spirits when he picked her up from the airport, careful to appear fine, to reassure Gabi all was well and he would love to visit soon.

Because thinking of home was the best kind of hurt available to him, the worst kind of masochist.

He picked up the pill bottle, tracing the label with his thumb. It used to be one could get him to at least calm down. Now, two couldn’t even get him a full night’s sleep. He debated tossing the sleeping pills in the trash. Instead, he tossed them on the desk before reaching for his fallen bag.  
Unfortunately, he’d forgotten the bag was open and a stack of papers fell out along with his cell phone.

He tossed the papers on the desk with the ruined folders. Then he scooped up his phone, unsurprised to find six missed calls and three voicemails. His mother had a habit of calling him twice a day at least. His father once a week. Uncle Vic seemed to be the only one who understood his need for privacy, only calling when a project was due.

He scrolled through the missed calls, unsurprised to find that Adrienne’s number dominated the list. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, a wave of exhaustion rolling over him. He’d just made the decision to leave the messages for the morning when the last number on the list stopped his scrolling.

He knew that number anywhere.

Before he could think it through, he dialed into his voicemail.

The first two messages were from Adrienne, blathering on about meaningless tidbits of Salem news. Sonny had to smile at that, at how warm the sound of her voice always made him feel when she left him a message. That was his mother, the blatherer. And the hugger.

The second message was from Justin. It was brief, but concerned, as his conversations with his father usually were. Justin seemed to struggle to simultaneously give him space while prying in the way only over-protective fathers knew how.

Sonny made a mental note to call both of his parents in the morning.

Justin’s voice drifted off, followed by a loud beep, and then a voice announcing the final message.

Sonny’s grip tightened on the phone.

“Hey, Sonny, it’s me—“

Sonny snapped the phone shut, the phone slippery between his sweaty palms. He reached for the armrest on the chair behind him and sank into it, pushing his hair back from his face.

_Hey, Sonny, it’s me—_

Sonny finished the thought with a whisper.

“Paul.”


End file.
